I Didn't Mean It
by KaitlynRose
Summary: Sam tries to make Dean undertsand his true feelings after the events that took place at the Asylum.
1. Chapter 1

**I Didn't Mean It**

By: KaitlynRose

Author's Note: I LOVE Supernatural, but I have serious issues with how they ended last night's show. I'm sorry, I know Sam gets frustrated with Dean, but I refuse to believe that he doesn't love him. The end made Sam seem so uncaring, so blasé about the whole thing, so this is my fix.

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"Dean."

"Sam, not now," Dean said.

"But, please, you have to understand," Sam begged from the passenger seat.

"I get it, Sammy. It wasn't you. It was the doctor. It's over. It's done with."

Sam could tell this was far from over and done with. Dean didn't believe him. Dean glanced at Sam for a brief moment and Sam could see the betrayal, the mistrust, and the accusations in his eyes. Dean really believed that Sam hated him enough to kill him.

"Dean, I don't hate you," Sam exclaimed. "I would never…"

"Sam, we are done with this conversation," Dean barked. He flipped on the radio and put it on a deafening level of volume to drown out Sam. He couldn't handle this right now. His brother, own beloved baby brother who he had practically raised had fucking shot him, had looked him in the eye and pulled the trigger. So maybe the doctor had pushed Sam to the point of murder, but the words that had come from Sam's mouth, they were true, every fucking one of them. They were the true thoughts and feelings that Sam kept hidden, buried inside himself. The doctor just gave Sam the nudge needed to actually voice those thoughts out loud.

Sam sat in his seat and was beside himself. How could Dean truly believe Sam had meant those things? Sure, he was willing to admit that he was frustrated, but most of that frustration was with their father. Their Dad was playing some army commando mind game with the both of them and he was pissed about it, and the fact that Dean was willing to follow their father blindly did bother him, but dear god, not enough to ever make him question his love for his brother. He had to make Dean see the truth, but Dean wouldn't even talk to him right now.

Sam chewed on his lip and fought back the panic attack he felt about to come over him. What if Dean never forgave him? What if Dean turned against him? What if Dean decided that he didn't want Sam around anymore? What the hell would he do then? He would be alone…lost. 'Dear God,' he prayed, 'please let me fix this, please let me be able to make him see.'

For the next twenty minutes they drove without ever even making eye contact. Every minute that passed caused both brothers to die a little more inside. One from the feeling that the brother he adored his entire life never really loved him at all, the other from the knowledge that the brother he had loved his entire life believed he was capable of such cruelty.

Finally Dean pulled into the parking lot of the first motel they had come across.

"I'll get us a room," Sam offered.

"I've got it," Dean insisted.

"Dean?"

"I said I've got it!"

Sam walked to the trunk of the car and grabbed their bags while Dean got them a room. A minute later Dean returned and walked straight to room 12 and opened the door. He never even glanced to see if Sam was coming.

Sam walked into the room in time to see the bathroom door closing and then he heard the catch of the lock.

Sam dropped their bags on the floor and went to the door.

"Dean,"

"I'm busy in here," Dean called.

"Dean, I need to wrap your chest," Sam said.

"I'm fine."

Sam sighed. "No you're not. You were shot. I…I sh…" he couldn't make himself say the words out loud.

Suddenly the door opened and Dean finished his sentence for him. "You shot me! That's right little brother. You shot me not once, but four times to be exact! Once with the shot gun and three times you pulled the trigger to put a bullet in my head."

"Dean, I swear, I wasn't in control." Tears rose up to Sam's eyes.

"Maybe the doctor made you pull the trigger, but what you said, you meant every word of it. I'm pathetic. I'm desperate for Dad's approval. I'm bossy. You're sick of me! Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Dean, I didn't mean those words."

"Sure you did," Dean responded. "You hate this life. You hate hunting. You're tired of looking for Dad. You've made all this pretty damn clear on several occasions."

"I'm upset at Dad, I won't even try to deny that, but the anger I feel right now is for him, not you. I don't understand why he's playing this cat and mouse game with us. What is he trying to prove?"

"I don't know why Dad is doing what he is doing, but I'm going to keep doing what he needs me to do. If that makes me a 'good little soldier' then so be it! I'm going to keep doing this whether you like it or not, and if you don't then there's the fucking door. You can get the hell out right now!"

Sam was crushed by Dean's words. His worst fear was coming true. Dean hated him. Dean was going to throw him out.

"Dean, I don't…why won't you believe me? How can you really think I hate you? How can you believe that?"

"I don't know, maybe because you walked out on us without so much as a second glance. Face it Sam, you would give anything to be a part of any other family in the world but ours."

"Dean, I dreamed of a normal life, it's true, but it isn't meant to be. Just to reinforce that fact the 'powers that be' decided to give me fucking abilities that I don't understand, don't know how to use, or want. Tell the truth, even you are freaked out by the fact that I…see things."

"It threw me, its true, but it didn't affect the way I…"

"Feel?" Sam asked.

"I'm tired," Dean announce. "I'm tired and I hurt because I took a shot gun blast to the chest. I'm going to bed."

"Dean, please, you have to forgive me," Sam cried. "You raised me! For as long as I can remember you have taken care of me, protected me, saved me. Dean, if it hadn't been for you these past months, I…I would have put a gun to my head a long time ago. Please don't hate me. You're…you're all I have left." Tears slowly rolled down Sam's cheeks as he poured his heart out in an attempt to make Dean see the truth. "If you hate me…if you leave me behind…I…can't do this."

"Sam, stop crying. I'm not going to leave you behind. It's just…DAMN IT!" Dean kicked his bag across the room and then gasped at the pain it caused in his chest.

"I never held it against you," Sam whispered.

"Held what?" Dean demanded.

"What the shape shifter said," Sam said quietly.

"That's because it wasn't me doing the talking!" Dean replied.

"But he still spoke the truth, and you know it. I know you heard him talking to me that day in the sewer. You might not have heard all of it, but you heard some."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said, but Sam could see the guilt in his eyes.

"You hate that I went to college. You hate that I made friends, that I was sharing a life with Jessica, and even though you'd rather die than admit it, part of you hates the fact that you were the one who got stuck being with Dad while I was away at school…and…and part of you hates me too."

"That's bullshit!" Dean replied. "I didn't like you leaving like that, but I never hated you."

"I don't like that you follow Dad's orders without question, but I never hated you," Sam said calmly.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He finally realized that blaming Sam for what happened wasn't fair. Sam had been possessed. He hadn't been in control of his own actions no more than Dean was at fault for the shape shifter almost killing Sam.

Sam was getting nervous because Dean was so quiet. After all that, Dean still wasn't convinced. He made one last desperate plea to his brother.

"Dean, I…I…I love you," Sam stammered. "Please, don't turn against me." He knew he sounded pathetic and Dean would probably say something crude now to stop what was an overly emotional moment, but he was at his wits end. He covered his face with his hands and let the tears flow free.

For a long time Dean didn't move. Part of him didn't want to let go of his sense of righteous anger, but looking at Sam…crap…Sam was falling apart. He couldn't stop himself. As much as part of him wanted Sam to suffer, at least a little, the big brother in him couldn't let this continue.

He had a seat on the bed next to Sam and draped his arm across his brother's narrow shoulders. Sam looked up at Dean.

"Its okay, Sammy. I forgive you."

"Honest?"

"Honest," Dean replied. "Now, if you'll kindly stop blubbering, I really, really need to get some sleep."

Sam wiped at his eyes. "I need to bind your chest first."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, you do."

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Two hours later Sam lay in his bed. He had yet to fall asleep. Guilt was still eating a hole in his stomach. Dean had forgiven him, but part of him couldn't help but wonder if things would be different between them now.

The phone rang. Sam looked to see it was Dean's.

"Dean," called.

The phone rang again and Sam grabbed it. Dean was out cold. He pressed send and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" he said groggily.

"Dean, is that you?"

Sam bolted up in his bed. "Dad?"


	2. No One's There

Chapter 2: No One's There

It had been two weeks since Sam had shot Dean with rock salt, and eleven days since Sam got a mysterious phone call that he suspected had been his father. He hadn't told Dean about the call. Sam had tried to trace it but had had no luck. He figured mentioning it to Dean would just cause more trouble between them.

For the past two weeks Sam had tried to back off and not get on Dean's case so much. The truth was, even though Dean had forgiven Sam for what happened in the Asylum, Sam had yet to forgive himself.

So for two weeks now Sam had refrained from arguing with Dean. He did the laundry without complaining, he listened to Dean's music, and he had even hustled pool while Dean was recuperating in the motel. When Dean said they had a job to do he went along with it. He knew Dean had noticed something was different, but honestly he didn't know what else to do to make it up to Dean. Having and heart to heart conversation was out, so he showed he cared with his actions.

Dean parked the car in front of the now abandoned Brice House. The house was supposedly haunted with a malevolent spirit. Several teens had been attacked while sneaking into the place for a little fun and illegal drinking. The same thing had happened two years ago and two kids to got killed. This time no one died, but a girl was in the hospital still in a coma.

"You ready?" Dean asked Sam. Once again Sam seemed to be a million miles away. "Earth to Sammy?" Dean called as he snapped his fingers. Sam flinched and looked at him.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you were ready."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Sam said and grabbed for the door handle. He was surprised when Dean put his hand on his arm and stopped him.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dean asked.

"I…I don't know what you mean?" Sam looked genuinely confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Dean said with a sigh. "You never do anything wrong anymore. You don't complain, you don't roll your eyes at me, you never change the radio station, and you don't talk about Dad anymore."

"Then what's wrong?" Sam asked.

"That's what's wrong," Dean scoffed. "Sam, it's like you're only half alive."

"I'm…I…I was just trying to not give you such a hard time. I thought you'd be grateful."

"I appreciate the gesture," Dean said, "but I…I miss you." He grimaced as if saying the words out loud had actually caused him physical pain.

Sam shook his head from side to side. "I don't understand. I'm right here."

"No, you're not," Dean said. "Sammy left the building the day the mad doctor messed with his head."

"You mean the day I shot you," Sam snapped.

"Okay, I thought we had this conversation already. It wasn't you. I don't blame you."

"Yes you did," Sam said. "I was there, remember. I wasn't strong enough to fight it and you blamed me for every word that came out of my mouth."

"Sam, at that moment I was pissed off," Dean agreed. "I hurt like hell and I just needed time to stew for a while. That was two weeks ago though. I'm over it. I'm so over it. If I had any lingering doubt, watching you mope around and kiss my ass for two weeks put it right out of my head."

"I haven't been kissing your ass," Sam defended.

"Please, you've now hustled pool twice and played poker once, something you NEVER would have done a few weeks ago."

"We needed money and you were hurt. I did what was necessary."

"Sam, I'm fine. I'm not mad at you, and believe it or not, I miss arguing with you. The old Sam had spirit. This new Sam, well, to be perfectly honest, you're boring the hell out of me."

Sam sat there looking at him slack-jawed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Close your mouth before a bug flies in there," Dean cautioned.

Sam snapped his jaw shut but continued to stare at Dean.

"Dude, really. I've let it go, and I'm asking you to do the same. I want my pain in the ass, exasperating, and down right annoying baby brother back. So are we cool, or what?"

Sam finally cracked a smile. It was the first one he had made since that horrible night. "Yeah, we're cool."

"Good, glad to hear it. Now, let's go in there and kick some evil thing's ass."

"You know, we really should do a bit more research on this place before we go in," Sam said. "I mean, we might not even need to go in. If we research the house and find out who this is, we can just go straight to the cemetery and salt and burn. The library isn't far. We can wait till tomorrow."

"Sam, remember what I said about missing my annoying little brother," Dean asked.

"Yeah?"

"Forget I mentioned it!" Dean grabbed his shot gun and got out of the car. Sam just smiled and followed behind his big brother.


End file.
